


it was never clearer in my error

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-13
Updated: 2007-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8700007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Second installment in my new fanboy!verse. Jensen plays Sam Winchester on a hit television show, and is a bit of a cynical ass. Jared's his number one fan...and needs a favor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

**Title:** it was never clearer in my error  
**Characters:** Jared/Jensen, guest appearances by Chad Michael Murray, Sandra McCoy and Joshua Jackson.  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** 3, 961  
**Summary:** Second installment in my new [ fanboy!verse](http://keepaofthecheez.livejournal.com/tag/fanboy!verse). Jensen plays Sam Winchester on a hit television show, and is a bit of a cynical ass. Jared’s his number one fan…and needs a favor.  
**Notes:** Dedicated to [ ](http://miss-begonia.livejournal.com/profile)[**miss_begonia**](http://miss-begonia.livejournal.com/) on the occasion of her birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY! I ♥ you, and hope you enjoy this!  
Also, some suspension of disbelief regarding certain SPN timeline events is needed for this ‘verse. Some things will be happening a bit differently, as you’ll soon see.  
  
  
  
  
 

**it was never clearer in my error  
by keepaofthecheez**

  
  
  
  
**Jensen.**  
  
  
“So, let me get this straight. No pun intended.”  
  
Jensen pulls his hands away from his eyes, meeting Josh’s gaze with a scowl. “You’re not even funny. You think you are, but you’re not.”  
  
“Funny?” Josh clucks his tongue, shaking his head as he leans up against the doorjamb. He sends Jensen that oh-so-familiar _I’m really disappointed in you, man_ look that Josh’s perfected over the course of the show’s run. “No, I don’t think it’s _funny_ that you promised some kid a guest spot so you could _fuck_ him, Jensen.”  
  
“That’s not—” _what happened_ , Jensen wants to finish, but really, is the truth any better? _Yeah, I was so fucking horny, man, and the kid was practically begging for it. I just wasn’t paying attention to anything but getting his dick up my ass as soon as possible._  
  
And Josh is still _staring_ at him, and Jensen’s starting to get why Katie ran off and joined a cult, because _damn._ That shit’ll fuck you up for life.  
  
“Look, it just kind of happened,” he says instead, rubbing the back of his neck and closing his eyes. Immediately, the image of Jared – flushed and debauched and freshly fucked – sears the backs of his lids, and Jensen shudders. He wants to be pissed, because the kid totally played him and that never happens. _Ever._  
  
Only, it did. And Jensen’s not even really sure he can blame Jared, because he’d clearly been trying to tell Jensen something before the whole dick-up-Jensen’s-ass portion of the evening, and Jensen hadn’t listened. Hadn’t _cared_ , really, so maybe Josh was kind of right.   
  
Maybe Jensen needed a rude awakening.  
  
“I don’t want the gory details,” Josh is saying, grimacing, and Jensen bites down on his lip and the nasty words that spring to his tongue. “I just wanna hear what you’re planning to tell Kripke about this.”  
  
Uneasiness and guilt washes through Jensen’s veins as he shifts on the couch and glances up from under his lashes. “I was kind of…thinking about just bailing.”  
  
Josh’s expression remains blank, and Jensen clears his throat. “I didn’t, Jared doesn’t have any way of getting in touch with me so…I figured, we’ll be gone by tomorrow anyway, right? Hell, maybe he won’t even remember.”  
  
“Are you seriously that much of a jackass?” Josh’s voice takes on a surprised note that makes Jensen feel like shit. Why the hell had he told Josh, anyway? He was clearly losing his mind. “God, Jen, did you or did you not _tell this kid_ he could come on the show?”  
  
“After the blowjob, things got a little fuzzy,” Jensen snaps. He perversely enjoys the way Josh’s nose wrinkles, and righteous indignation begins to bubble up. His co-star has a lot of damn nerve. “Come up off it, Josh. _I’m_ not the one with tallies in my trailer, okay?”  
  
Josh lifts his chin, still watching him with aggravating patience. “Yes, you are.”  
  
Goddamn it.   
  
Jensen bites his lip, weighs his options, and decides to go in for the kill. He likes Josh - _self-righteous bastard_ \- but he’s not above laying the guy low to get him to shut his fucking trap. “I don’t care what teen America thinks…you’re an evil person and I like James Van Der Beek better than you.”  
  
The sore spot is noticeable in the faint twitch of Josh’s eye, and Jensen smirks, refusing to feel bad about dragging up bad memories of old friends. Josh’s voice wavers a bit when he says, “You take that back.”  
  
“Then leave me the hell alone about this, man.” Jensen shoves a hand through his hair, coming to his feet and staring out the window with locked jaw and fists.   
  
When he glances over again, Josh is back to giving him that same considering, weighing expression that infuriates pretty much everyone who’s ever been on the opposite end. Then he’s reaching over for the phone, and throws the receiver at Jensen. “Call him.”   
  
Jensen stares after his co-star as he leaves the room, and entertains vague ideas about drowning Pacey in the Creek.  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
_God, if you haven’t already forsaken me over that thing with the Foley twins back in tenth grade…mind helping a guy out here? Just…a sign or whatever._  
  
Of course, God’s always had a twisted sense of humor. That's the only possible explanation for what he sees when he flips the channel: a younger Jared Padalecki, unmistakably him -- and damn why hadn't the kid mentioned he'd been on television or had he and Jensen just wasn't listening? – macking on Alexis Bledel.   
  
Despite himself, he can’t stop _watching_ …can’t take his eyes off of those gigantic paws as Jared holds his tiny former co-star's face and all but bends her backward a la Rhett Butler. Kisses her so hard Jensen feels _his_ lips start to tingle.  
  
“Son of a bitch,” he mutters to no one in particular. Or maybe everyone. Shit, it’s everyone else’s fault for why he’s getting hard from watching a fucking twelve year old (seventeen, eighteen, whatever) make googly eyes at some chick with a bigger freckle problem than Jensen’s.  
  
It’s definitely Josh’s fault. And Lauren’s…because, goddamn, she knows what a slut he is. She probably found out about Jensen sleeping with her ex-boyfriend before the guy suddenly decided he was straight after all, and this whole thing is all some kind of brilliant revenge tactic and-  
  
Jared’s grin lights up the screen, and Jensen wants to cry. Just lay down and fucking _sob_ , because he’s gonna do it. He’s gonna give this kid what he wants, because there’s no fucking way anyone could look at Jared and refuse him.   
  
Jensen’s immune to a lot of shit, but Jared’s smile? Not even close.  
  
There’s only one Padalecki in the phone book, so Jensen doesn’t have time to change his mind. Can only listen to the ominous sound of the dial tone and remind himself that cussing Jared out over the phone would _not_ make the situation any better.  
  
Neither would asking Jared if he could come over and fuck himself on Jared’s goddamn spectacular dick again, although that’d definitely be a decent distraction. Of course, he’d just have to deal with Jared afterward, so no.  
  
“’Lo?”  
  
Jensen frowns at the vaguely familiar, husky voice, although definitely not _Jared’s_ husky voice, and abruptly feels like an idiot. Which only pisses him off even more. “Uh, Jared?” he says anyway, because, well, hell, he’s not a damn pussy. Never has been, and he’s not gonna start now.   
  
At least he can tell Josh he tried.  
  
There’s a rustling sound across the line, and then, “Jared’s not here. Who’s this?”  
  
“Who’s _this?_ ” Jensen can’t help but ask, because what the _hell?_ Jared hadn’t seemed like the type…and granted, Jensen barely knows the kid, but still. There’s no denying the fact that there’s some random sleeping _guy_ in Jared’s apartment, and yeah, he could be a roommate, but he could also be. Not a roommate.  
  
Oh, God. He’s definitely lost his fucking _mind._  
  
There’s a brief pause, then a slightly bitchier, “Dude, I asked you first.”  
  
Jensen grips the receiver, wondering when he’d transformed back into a fifth-grader. He takes a deep breath, because he’s an adult. Damn it. “This is Jensen Ackles.”  
  
“Oh, well la-dee-dah,” the voice drawls, and there’s a snort that leaves Jensen bristling. “The fuck you want Jared for, _Jensen Ackles?_ ”  
  
“Look, I don’t know—” Jensen cuts himself off. _Oh. **Shit.** Of all the…_ He's beyond wishing he hadn't called, now he just wishes he had a fork to stick in his eye. “ _Chad?_ ”  
  
“So, you’re not as dumb as you are pretty. I’m kinda disappointed.”  
  
“I kinda don’t give a fuck. Where’s Jared?” Jensen growls, a foreign weight in his belly and blood pumping hot.   
  
Chad’s little snicker does nothing to reassure him, either. But it does make him want to punch the fucker in the head. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Did you let my boy tap that ass, Jen?”  
  
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” _You arrogant fuck._ Jensen’s fingers curl into claws, and he takes a steady breath before trying again. “Look, I need to talk to Jared, so if you could just—”  
  
“He’s not here. He’s at work.” Jensen hears a faint _snick_ in the background. “Wha’cha need to talk to my boy about?”  
  
_My boy._ Jensen thinks if he hears it again, The CW’s gonna be one douchebag short of a dozen. “You’re really starting to piss me off, Murray.”  
  
“Sounds like someone didn’t get the Padalecki treatment after all.” Chad whistles, and Jensen stiffens. “He’s got a _mouth_ on him, Jensen. Surprised you didn’t take advantage, though I guess I gotta give Jay some credit, too.”  
  
Thanks to his training for _Supernatural_ , Jensen knows about seven different ways to kill a person with his bare hands. He’d particularly like to try out number five on Chad Michael Murray right about now.  
  
When he doesn’t immediately respond, Chad clears his throat and mutters, “Fine, fine. _Whatever._ ” Jensen thinks he hears a bit of nervous tension coloring Chad’s voice, but that could be wishful thinking.  
  
Chad rattles off the address to some café downtown, and then gives Jensen another warning about “his boy”. Jensen presses his lips together and slams the phone down.  
  
Before picking it right back up. Dialing numbers so familiar he could find them in his sleep, he waits to be transferred, and smirks when his boss’s voice booms out over the line.  
  
“Hey, Eric. Yeah, I found our Joe.”  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
  
**Jared.**  
  
  
“What the hell are _you_ so happy about?”  
  
Jared glances up, meeting Sandy’s bemused gaze. “Hey,” he says, shifting over against the wall and making room for the petite brunette to squeeze in next to him. Grease, cooking meat and vegetables flavor the air, but tonight Jared can’t seem to work up any indignation for his surroundings. Not even the mustard-yellow smock currently draped across his shoulders is any match for the brightness of his grin.  
  
Sandy lets out a sigh, fingers fumbling with a cigarette and lighter. “Oh, Christ. Who’d you do?”  
  
Jared’s lips quirk a bit, and he reaches over and snags the lighter himself. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He avoids her gaze, flicks the button and watches the small flame light the end of her cigarette.  
  
Sandy’s snort echoes in the hallway. “Please. You look just like you did after that time you scored the threesome with me and…what was her name? From the deli. The one you let fuck you with the giant pink--”  
  
“First of all.” Jared lifts a finger in the air. “You promised never to mention that again.”  
  
Sandy’s smirk is more than a little sly. “So…who’d you do?”  
  
Jared clears his throat and looks pointedly at the wall. Arms crossed against his chest, neck flaming.  
  
“Well, give me _something_ to go on here. Boobs or balls?”  
  
He’s not sure whether he wants to laugh or cry, and settles for a choked, “Sandra!” Which means next to nothing when he sees the practiced pout coloring Sandy’s pretty features. He rubs the bridge of his nose and squirms a little. “God, don’t you have another ‘NSYNC video to do?”  
  
Sandy lifts a brow. “Still pissed about that, huh? Don’t be jealous, Jared. You couldn’t have gotten the part anyway…you dance for shit. Oh, and you have a _dick_.”  
  
“I’m not jealous, I—” Jared trails off, biting his tongue. “Oh, my God. How do you always _do this?_ ”  
  
“If you’d just talk I wouldn’t have to.”  
  
Jared’s jaw works, and then he shoots her a pissy glare that falls short, given the way Sandy’s smile just grows more knowing. He sighs, pushes off the wall with his foot. “Balls,” is all he says, ignoring the squeal from behind him. “And I’ll be jerking off to it for years to come, is that what you wanna know? Jesus fuck.”  
  
“Who, what, when, where, and did you or did he?” Sandy demands, bouncing on her toes after him.   
  
Pushing through the swinging kitchen doors, Jared swallows down a smile despite himself.  
  
“A gentleman never tops and tells.” He’s got close to five orders piling up on the counter, and grabs the nearest two, easily balancing the heavy platters.  
  
“Oh, that was _so lame._ ” Sandy chews on her bottom lip, picking up a tray. “Was he hot?”  
  
Jared sends a look over his shoulder, grinning wickedly. “What do you think?”  
  
“I think if you’re gonna make it a habit to screw hot guys behind my back, the least you could do is give me the dirty details.”  
  
Jared raises a brow, but doesn’t call her out on the fact that they’ve been broken up for close to ten months now. Instead, he pretends to ponder the statement, then answers in a thoughtful drawl: “Well, I _did_ suck Chad’s dick the other day.”  
  
Sandy stutters to a halt, and it sounds like she's choking on her gum. “On the other hand…”  
  
“I’ve gotta go.” Jared laughs, shaking his head at her disgusted expression and bumping the kitchen door with his hip. “Maybe later I’ll tell you just how many fingers he likes up his—”  
  
“Finish that sentence and _die!_ ” Sandy calls out, hands over her ears as she flashes him a scowl and flounces away. Jared’s still chuckling to himself as he serves the food to waiting customers, and then turns to greet the people who’ve just been seated in his section.  
  
“Hi, welcome to…” He trails off, blinking in astonishment and about fifty other emotions that thickens his throat and stills his tongue.  
  
Jensen looks up, and there’s a split-second of something hot warming the gold in his eyes before the shutters come down, his gaze freezing to icy green. “Jared,” he says, and Jared stands there and thinks maybe he missed something important.  
  
Josh Jackson – and holy _God_ , what is he _doing_ here? - is giving him this freaky stare that reminds Jared of the Mother Superior back at the Catholic school he’d attended for all of five minutes before his parents decided they were really Southern Baptists. It’s disconcerting, to say the least, and his smile wobbles a little more.  
  
“Um. Jensen. Hi.” _Christ, could you **be** more pathetic, you lameass?_ And now his inner thoughts are sounding like Chad, and Jared hides a wince. He decides to play it cool, or as cool as he can manage anyway. “What can I get you guys?”  
  
“I didn’t know you worked here,” Jensen says after another awkward pause, voice cool and slightly defensive. Jared hears the added, _Not that I’d know anything about you anyway._  
  
Suddenly, the yellow smock and dishrag hanging from his pocket feel like lead weights, and he resists the urge to reach up and scratch his nose. “Yeah. I, uh, sometimes I help out or whatever…when I’m not taking off my clothes for money, you know? Heh.”  
  
_Oh, my God, Jared…what are you **saying?**_  
  
Josh’s eyes narrow into slits, and he immediatey adds, "I model."   
  
Jensen’s just sitting there like a stone, expression a careful mask, and Jared can’t see anything of the bold and sexy guy he’d met the night before.  
  
“I’ll have whatever’s on tap.” Josh finally says, drumming his fingers against the table, and Jensen flinches.  
  
“Um, well, we have a lot on tap.” Jared licks his teeth and shoots Jensen a furtive glance. “Bud, Miller, Coors, Killians—”  
  
“Just get me whatever you like best.” Josh flashes a white grin that does nothing to ease Jared’s frazzled nerves. He nods quickly, biting his lip and turning to Jensen.  
  
“I’ll have one, too.” Jensen sounds a bit strangled, and he hasn't met Jared’s eyes since the first time. Something deep in Jared’s chest clenches, but he nods, forces a smile and turns to walk away.  
  
He passes Sandy on the way to the bar, smile falling flat. She looks over his shoulder, both brows rising. “What was that about?”  
  
“ _That_ was nothing, obviously.” He can’t quite keep the bitter off his tongue, and leans over the counter to avoid meeting her gaze. Ignoring the heat digging into his back, he mutters the drink orders and sulks.  
  
“ _That’s_ the guy?” Sandy’s mouth falls open, and she nearly trips in her sneakers to get a good look over Jared’s shoulder. Jared swallows a curse, feeling stiff and mortified. “Oh, wow. _Wow._ Damn, Jared, no one can fault your taste in your guys.”  
  
“He’s not my guy.” Jared’s voice is flat and quiet, and Sandy’s gaze flicks back to his. He leans across the bar counter, raising his voice a little. “Can I get those beers already?”  
  
“Hey.” Sandy’s hand rests lightly on his shoulder, and Jared goes even more rigid. “C’mon, Jay…talk to me.”  
  
“I can’t. I have to work. I have to make some _money_ so I can get the fuck out of this _shithole_ and hell, since when does talking ever help anything anyway?”  
  
“Jared.”  
  
The bartender slides two frothy mugs across the dark cherry wood. Jared takes them with a grateful sigh, a quick, insincere smile toward Sandy, and then he turns and nearly runs into Jensen.  
  
“Hey.” Jensen’s got both hands shoved down deep in the pockets of his jeans, looking more uncomfortable than Sam getting choked on a Thursday night. The corner of his mouth quirks, and Jared hates himself for the flash of heat that crawls through his belly as his eyes track the movement. “Gotta minute?”  
  
“Um.” Standing there with two beers and pit stains, Jared’s never felt more like the washout he is than when faced with the perfection that’s Jensen Ackles. Even Chad doesn’t come close to pulling off the easy, slick LA charm and celebrity good looks Jensen possesses with a single purse of his lips, and for a split-second, Jared hates him.  
  
Then Jensen looks up at him from under gold-tipped lashes and murmurs, “Please?”  
  
Jared melts like a proverbial snowman in July, blowing out a breath and ducking his head. “Yeah, sure. Gimme just a sec, and I’ll meet you around back.”  
  
  
 

xxx

  
  
  
_Well, this isn’t the least bit awkward._  
  
Jared watches Jensen watching a line of ants crawl up the pavement and into a crack in the building, and opens his mouth about five times. Finally, he shoves his fingers through his hair. “I gotta go back in soon.”  
  
Jensen’s jaw tightens, and then he’s speaking in a low, angry rush. “Look. You’re slick, I’ll give you that.” His eyes drift over Jared’s uniform, nose wrinkling a bit. “Can’t really blame you for trying, I guess, but you’ve fucked me over in the process.”  
  
Jared blinks. “What?”  
  
Jensen’s smile is all teeth and doesn’t meet his eyes. “So I’ll get you to fucking Vancouver, get your foot in the door. What you do with it is up to you. It’s not on me if you screw it up.”  
  
Jared’s eyes widen, and he could slap himself upside the head for _forgetting_. Jesus Christ…one taste of Jensen’s ass around his dick, and he can’t remember one of the most important details of his working life?  
  
“Jensen.” A jolt of excitement begins warming over the hurt, glossing the burn from Jensen’s frosty demeanor. “I can’t…god, _really?_ ”  
  
“Really.”   
  
The word is a snap of cool ice, but Jared barely notices. He’s grinning from ear to ear, staring at a point just over Jensen’s shoulder. He’s already imagining himself on set: a sawed-off shotgun in hand, dirt and blood highlighting his features as he takes out a bloodthirsty zombie or, hell, maybe he’ll even get to _be_ a bloodthirsty zombie.  
  
_Awesome._  
  
“Damn.” His voice comes out soft and appreciative, his gaze returning to Jensen’s in time to see a flash of something glitter within those green-gold depths. Jared blows out a breath, reaching out a hand for Jensen’s. “Jensen, thanks so much. This is so fucking awesome of you, and—”  
  
“Shut _up_.” A split-second later, Jared's pressed up against warm brick, Jensen’s tongue licking its way inside his mouth. He reaches for Jensen’s hips on a low, surprised moan, pulling Jensen to the tips of his toes and grinding down with his dick. Jensen’s breath catches, his fingers twitch at Jared’s sides. Then he’s reaching up between them, pushing away and panting for breath while Jared stares at him in dazed confusion.  
  
“Whas’ wrong?”  
  
One of Jensen’s hands slides up Jared’s neck, into his hair, and then he’s jerking Jared back hard, tonguing the pulse of his jugular, and Jared’s lashes flutter. “This doesn’t mean anything,” Jensen’s saying, _purring_ , voice whiskey-rough and sandpaper-raw against Jared’s skin. His other hand slips around Jared’s belly, to his ass, squeezing and rubbing. “You’re just a sweet, hot piece of ass, Padalecki.”  
  
Jared swallows, eyes slitted and mouth pursed. He knows he oughta be offended, but _fuck_ …Jensen’s teeth are tugging at his throat, little nibble-bites that seem directly online with Jared’s dick. A moan rips past his lips. “Jensen.”  
  
“Shut the fuck up.” Jensen pulls back, eyes heavy and hooded, and then he’s holding Jared’s gaze and dropping to his knees. Jared falls back, hips canted out for Jensen’s palms, letting Jensen work his zipper down, breathing too hard, too fast. He shudders when the flat of Jensen’s tongue warms the underside of his cock.  
  
“Oh. _Oh_ , fuck.” Wetting his lips, Jared stares down at the image of Jensen Ackles just going to _town_ on his dick. Candy-pink tongue flickering, mouth shiny and stretched wide around Jared’s flesh. It’s like every dirty fantasy Jared’s had since Eric Brady showed up in Salem the week Jared was laid up with a sprained ankle, nothing better to do than watch daytime TV. He’d been fifteen, and screwed forever.  
  
It doesn’t help that Jensen looks so fucking _good_ on his knees; looks perfectly well at home servicing Jared’s dick with his lips and tongue in some dark alley behind a family restaurant.   
  
_Christ_. He’s—  
  
“Coming…” Jared chokes off, fucking past those pretty, willing lips. Jensen looks up, pale moonlight catching in his gaze, gleaming. Jared makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, shoves his fist in his mouth and muffles a sharp cry.   
  
Jensen drinks him down like an alcoholic at happy hour, and _Jared’s_ the one left feeling intoxicated. He sways a bit on his feet, begging and murmuring under his breath for God knows what, while Jensen stares up at him from half-closed eyes and softens his dick with velvety licks.  
  
He thinks maybe his knees are shaking, which is a little embarrassing, but he figures he’s allowed a few minutes of recuperation after having had his brains sucked out through his cock.   
  
By _Jensen Ackles._  
  
Jared still hasn’t really gotten over it.  
  
A slow grin splits his features and he lets out a hoarse laugh. “Jesus. _Jesus._ ” When Jensen comes to his feet, Jared’s eyes fall to the hard line of his cock pressing against tight jeans, and he immediately starts to reach out. “Here, lemme—”  
  
Jensen slaps his hand away, not meeting Jared’s eyes although it’s obvious he’s painfully turned on. One hand disappears in his pocket, drawing a wince from swollen, wet lips, and Jared blinks a little stupidly at the sight. Then, “Get your shit packed, Padalecki. You’ve got a plane to catch in the morning.”  
  
Gaze still trained on the imprint of his cock against Jensen’s pretty mouth, Jared barely catches the arline envelope thrust at his chest. His fingers fumble with the ticket. “T-Tomorrow morning?” he says, stammers, feeling slow and sticky-hot and _fucked_.  
  
Jensen’s answer is a derisive sneer, eyes skimming the length of Jared’s body, and then he purses his lips. “We’ll see what you’re made of.”


End file.
